20 June 2007

15 tits out!


i've become mildly obsessed with cleavage lately. not that of others or even my own, but more the culture of cleavage. the bizarrely contradictory level of social acceptability surrounding the whole bosom business.

ironically, this can be traced to the last man man show (an exceptionally testosteroney venue for breast awareness, i'll grant you). when K and i sat atop a radiator amid a crowd who weren't even born when we were entering the sixth grade. it was a crowd in which we were the only ones going even remotely tits out. and this is me we're talking about, so it was pretty remote. nonetheless, it's an odd context- one in which i am considered to be giving a peep show.

for those of you who don't know, cleavage is a very very strange thing. we gals have little control over it. mine made its accidental debut at junior prom, where even The Dear Gay One was left stammering and speechless. since then, there's been many an unfortunate slip. many a time where things have not stayed where they were supposed to be. and i'm not alone in this. lindear, at least, is with me.

but the thing that i've noticed, the thing that amuses me to no end and has me thinking about this now, is that if you are buxom, you can do whatever the hell you want. you can let it all hang out and somehow it's not pornographic. it's accepted. because it's there and where the hell else are you going to put it.

but, if you're less than buxom, it's a whole other world. because there's this prevailing sense that any cleavage has been created. that it's artificial and deliberate, and, therefore, it's in appallingly bad taste. it's shameful. it's very very wrong. which is not at all right. because, though there may be less of it, what the rest of us have happens to be there as well, and we also have nowhere else to put it.

i'd been noticing this strange dichotomy for awhile, but it was only today that it really hit home. today, when a woman with what can only be described as knockers leaned over, revealing a broad, uncovered breasty expanse as she told me, her brow furrowed, her tone stern, dear, please cover up.

15 comments:

Clark MF Price said...

This post meets my approval.

oline said...

oh really?

Lara Ehrlich said...

WHO told you to cover up!? I want to know!

oline said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
oline said...

*in creepy brittany murphy voice*

i'll never tell...

Unknown said...

are boys even allowed to comment on this one?

Clark Price said...

If I may be so crass. The next time that woman or any woman with "knockers" tells you to cover up, while their cleaving is prominently displayed, play a drum solo on those pumpkins. That'll teach her to mind her own big breasted business!

Clark Price said...

What comment was deleted? I must know!

Clark Price said...

"CLEAVING" OH NOES!!!
I want to prominently display my "cleaving" not my "cleavage!"

oline said...

j- but of course.

clark- the deleting was me. it was only a typo and it was deleted because i am a perfectionist. and there will be no drum solos here. lindear's pats on the bottom are more than enough for me.

Clark Price said...

WWEHD? What Would Eugene Hutz Do?

Linda said...

might I add that pats on the bottom occur at any time, not just when a bottom needs to be covered up.

oline said...

same hold true for the boob taps? (and when did our friendearship become so pervy?!)

Clark Price said...

You didn't admire my alliteration. Ho-Hum!

oline said...

alliteration? where? confusion!

and to gloat for a teeny tiny second- we'll be seeing gogol! we'll be seeing gogol! yes, after 72 hours of pitchforking, we will be smelly and sunburnedy and sleep-deprived grumps, but still... we'll be seeing gogol!

(it has taken over 24 hours for me to come down from the ticket-buying high, so just imagine the dorktastic youthful exuberrance [damn that unspellable word] reserved for the show itself! yes, i am beaming.)